


Suspicious Death

by fuzipenguin



Series: The Odd Couple [5]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hugs, Thief!Jazz - Freeform, poor law student!Prowl - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 07:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12337815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Prowl apparently has the best lap.





	Suspicious Death

                Prowl’s datapad was drooping in his hand when he heard the window slide open. He perked up, squirming into a more upright position.

                Jazz was here. Good. His presence would give Prowl just enough energy to finish studying the last chapter he needed prepped for tomorrow’s class. Prowl half turned, opening his mouth to greet his visitor… but no words emerged.

                Instead, all he could do was gape at his friend. Jazz stood there with his arms wrapped around himself and tracks of coolant down his cheeks. Normally his energy field was well contained, even if they were shoulder to shoulder, but tonight Prowl could feel the edge of its miserable cloud from several feet away.

                “ _Primus_ ,” Prowl finally said. “Jazz…? Are you injured?”

                In an attempt to reach the other mech, Prowl thrashed on top of the bed, struggling with the covers. He threw one corner off himself and had just placed a foot on the floor when Jazz launched himself straight at Prowl.

                Decades-long practice of catching his youngest brother in a similar fashion served Prowl well. It was practically second nature to wrap his arms around Jazz’s trembling form as it scrambled into Prowl’s lap. And it was then that Prowl realized just how small Jazz was.

                His personality was huge, his presence unmistakable despite his minimal EM field. Prowl knew Jazz was smaller than himself and had been in close quarters with the other mech before. But as Jazz tucked himself up into a little ball atop Prowl’s thighs, he truly realized the dichotomy of their frame types.

                “What happened?” Prowl inquired, only to sightlessly blink over the top of Jazz’s helm as the mech began sobbing loudly.

                “Hush, hush, I’m here,” Prowl murmured, holding Jazz tighter and gently rocking back and forth. “You are safe, nothing will harm you. Can you tell me what is wrong?”

                Jazz violently shook his head, while burrowing into Prowl’s chest. His fingers clutched at Prowl’s side seams, knees pressing uncomfortably into his abdomen.

                Prowl counted himself lucky that there weren’t wildly flapping sensory panels to contend with. Bluestreak _still_ wasn’t able to control his wings when emotional, although he was getting better as he matured.

                “All right then,” Prowl replied with a quiet sigh. “We will sit here until you calm down some.”

                Prowl pulled his leg back onto the bed, settling himself against the headboard. He released Jazz for a moment to grab the warming blanket and tucked it around Jazz’s shoulders, cocooning him in against Prowl’s body.

                That seemed to help some. Jazz’s crying softened, although his desperate grip on Prowl didn’t loosen. Prowl merely rubbed small circles into Jazz’s upper back and continued to sway. His chest was starting to become uncomfortably damp, but Bluestreak had taught him it was always best to let the emotional storm wear itself out.

                It took far longer than Prowl had expected. By the time Jazz’s sobbing had subsided, Prowl’s left leg was starting to go numb from a pinched line. Yet his grip on the other mech was just as firm as when Jazz had first crawled into Prowl’s lap.

                When Jazz began sniffling, limp against Prowl’s chest, he spoke again. “You never answered me. Are you hurt?”

                Jazz minutely shook his head after a moment, face still hidden away. He didn’t seem inclined to actually speak yet, but Prowl persisted.

                “Is there someone else injured that we should get medical help for?”

                Ex-venting a shaky sigh, Jazz shook his head again. “Too late for him,” came his staticky voice, muffled and almost too quiet for Prowl to hear.

                His lines went cold. “Too late? Him, who?”

                “My carrier,” Jazz muttered, pressing his face hard against Prowl’s hood. “He died.”

                “Oh. Oh, Jazz, I am sorry,” Prowl murmured, pressing a kiss against the top of Jazz’s helm. “What can I do?”

                There was nothing but the sound of their ventilations for several moments, Prowl’s even and calm, Jazz’s harried and scratchy.

                Then…

                “Can I stay here? With you? Just for a little bit?” Jazz asked, voice so hesitant and small that Prowl couldn’t imagine himself ever saying no.

                “Of course,” Prowl replied immediately, tucking the blanket even tighter around Jazz’s frame. “For as long as you need.”

                Prowl hadn’t realized Jazz had gone tense with the question until he relaxed in relief. Which was ridiculous. Why would Jazz expect to be turned away? Had Prowl really given him the impression that he wouldn’t be welcome?

                Pondering his past actions and words, Prowl slumped against the headboard, shifting some of Jazz’s weight off the complaining leg. As Jazz resettled, Prowl was surprised to hear him speak again.

                “Thanks. Fer lettin’ me stay… and not askin’ questions.”

                Questions like why Jazz had come to Prowl and not someone else? Someone else like his creator or a friend, someone other than a random mech he had met only months prior?

                The thoughts had crossed Prowl’s processor, but who was he to voice them?

 

~ End


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